Found Out

(Author's Notes:

A simple one-scene story with a basic theme of reluctant loss of masculinity at the hands of another male. Fans of detailed description of various female outfits being worn or authentic transgender behavior are likely out of luck here.

Disclaimer: The following is a piece of fiction. Fiction (in case you don't know) means it's made up, not real, a bunch of lies. The characters in the story are all fictional too, meaning they don't exist. While non-existent, if they existed and had an age they would be over 18.

Furthermore, since the characters aren't real they can't possibly be harmed by the stuff they do or that happens to them in the story. This would not be true in reality, meaning you should not think you can do the same things safely, legally, or ethically in real life. Just because bullets bounce off Superman (he's fictional) that doesn't mean they're going to bounce off you, got it? If you believe that the things fictional characters do in a pornographic story are a valid guide to behavior in the real world, then you have much bigger psychological problems than a story could ever cause and you should stop reading this and seek medical help immediately.)

*****

You're standing, partly bent over (the better to make your ass stick out at the full-length mirror behind you), your cock growing hard inside the slinky black bikini panties you've donned. You gaze over your shoulder, pleased and aroused by the sight of your curvy silk-covered rear end. You stroke and tease your hard nipples through the lacy black camisole top you're also wearing, thinking about the exciting crossdressed autoerotic session you have planned today.

Next you hear the sound of the door lever of the bedroom clicking.

Your eyes go wide and you freeze in place as the door swings open. Reflected in the mirror you see him, standing in the now-open doorway. He's gone stock still, looking almost as shocked as you feel, his gaze seeming to meet your own in the mirror. You turn your head back to the front meaning it's facing towards him now but you let your eyes fall; you can't bear to look at him looking at you. You're too embarrassed and ashamed to acknowledge his gaze, and you feel a deep blush spread over your whole upper body at the fact he's discovered you like this. At the fact that as of now someone else knows your deepest, darkest, most demeaning secret.

You hear the door close and for a second you think he's left, then you hear him using the lock, the lock you had neglected to make sure was set before you got started this time. Your eyes swing back up in panic because what he's just done is lock the two of you into the bedroom. Together.

He's in front of the shut door, looking you up and down. Taking in the corset, the lace camisole, the sheer nylon stockings and garters, the silk panties. His intent gaze makes you feel hot and shivery; your erection, which had started to shrink, perks up again.

He steps forward and glances down, and it's clear he's looking at the towel near your feet where your dildo and the lube are waiting. He can see exactly what you were planning to do while dressed up like this. There's no way you can deny it, or pretend it's something else, something less perverted.

You keep expecting him to say something, to laugh at you or mock you, but he doesn't. He strides across the room toward you, meanwhile silently running his eyes over your lingerie-clad body

He comes close to where you stand. Your arms are crossed protectively, your face blazing in embarrassment. He's taller than you, you'd have to look up now to meet his eyes but of course you're not even trying, your gaze is downcast, you are so terribly humiliated at being found out. But despite the shame and humiliation you feel, you find your eyes drawn involuntarily to the crotch of his pants, wondering ...

"Turn around," he says, the first words either of you have uttered since the door opened. You're confused, and he repeats it; this time it's definitely a command. You start to turn away, but his voice stops you.

"Put your arms down first. And slowly. Do it slowly, let me see you," he insists.

You're blushing hotter than ever now, but you lower your arms which fully exposes your sordid and whore-like attire. You slowly pirouette in front of him like he wants. You know that his eyes are fixed on you, taking in both the lacy woman's undergarments and the areas of your bare flesh they expose.

"Stop," he commands after you have spun around more than once and are facing the mirror. You obey without question. He steps forward, coming within easy reach. In the mirror you can see his hand stretch out toward you.

His hand touches your neck, lightly tugs the leather dog collar you wear, then runs slowly all the way down along your camisole till it reaches the place where your bottom cheeks start to round out. He pauses just an instant before continuing; you give a little gasp as his fingers explore the silk stretched over your plump ass, one of them pushing the soft material into your rear cleft a bit as it traces the barely-hidden parting of your buttocks. He takes one yielding globe in his grasp and cradles it in his palm, squeezing it through your panties. Your eyes close and your breath is coming short due to a new tightness in your chest.

His hand leaves your bottom. You're not sure whether you feel relieved or disappointed.

"Lose the panties," he murmurs, lips almost at your ear. His hot breath against the delicate skin there makes you shudder, your own breath catching.

Almost without your volition your hands rise and your fingers reach for the ties on the sides of the bikini panties. Sluggishly, as if in a trance, you pull at the strings so that the bows shrink, drawing out the knots at a snail's pace. But despite how slowly you move, the bows eventually untie, the knots unravel, and the sides of the silken panties come apart. You drop the strings and the rearward triangle of material falls away from your rump, revealing pale, clean-shaven nakedness beneath. You find yourself spreading your legs slightly so that the crotch falls away as well, and the whole (hole?) garment drops to the floor between your feet.

His hand returns, feeling warmer now against the nude flesh of your buttocks. He strokes his spread fingers down the smooth curves; then back up, this time pressing the middle fingertip inward so it lightly parts your rear cheeks as it rises, edging into what you consider even more shameful territory. You shiver. Your cock has never been as hard as it is right now, so full of blood that it throbs almost painfully.

"Turn back around," he orders, and you do it without hesitation, eyes still downcast.

He puts a hand on your shoulder and presses gently. "Down."

You know what he wants without asking, you sink to your knees in front of him. In this position his crotch is right below your eyes and you let your gaze rest there. From here it's easy to see an obvious (and generous) bulge in his trousers.

His hand had already left your shoulder as soon as you started to get to your knees; now it moves to his trousers, unfastening his belt, unzipping the fly. He opens his boxers and brings out his cock. It is long and pink; not yet fully erect, but already bigger than yours.

He doesn't say anything at this point, he just holds out his naked cock pointed at your face. It is almost exactly level with your mouth, you find yourself licking your lips nervously. He's not touching you, he's not moving, he's just holding his swollen prick out, letting you see it. You keep waiting for more instructions, but he says nothing.

Finally you can't help yourself. You stick your tongue out and lean forward, cautiously licking the tip of his male member. It tastes slightly salty and musky, much like the way your fingers taste after your rub them over the head of your own penis. You lick some more, then you open your mouth and take his cock-head inside and swirl your tongue around over it.

The taste and feeling of a real cock in your mouth (at long last!) makes you forget yourself completely. You shuffle forward on your knees and begin giving him an enthusiastic if inexperienced blowjob, bobbing your head on his prick, laving his shaft with your tongue. Your hands move to his thighs, feeling his firm muscles there as you eagerly suck and worship his manhood.

His hands drop to the back of your head and he begins to fuck your mouth, driving his cock in and out between your lips. You try to keep up with him but the practice you've done on dildos isn't enough, you start to gag and choke as he goes deeper in your mouth and hits the back of your throat. You pull away, falling down onto your haunches and bending forward as you cough uncontrollably. He doesn't try to hold you down on his cock, you feel grateful for that mercy even as you try to stop coughing.

When you are in control again you straighten up and notice that he is reaching down to take the lube from the towel.

"Hold out your hand," is the next command. When you do, he squirts the lube over it. "Get me ready."

Your heart is beating like mad. With diffidence you bring your hand up to his now fully-erect cock and dab at it with the lube. It feels so hot, and you see that a little pre-cum is leaking from the tip. You take his cock in your hand and start to rub the gel over it. It feels so firm and yet yielding at the same time, so unlike the dildos you've done this to in the past.

You are stroking his cock now, enjoying the way it throbs and jumps in your hand. You think about taking the head into your mouth once more. But once his shaft is slippery from tip to base, he speaks again.

"That's enough. Get on your hands and knees."

You swallow hard. Tilting your face, you look up into his eyes, at last daring to meet his gaze for the first time since he closed the door behind him. He looks down at you and smiles slightly, a smile that is both knowing and confident; then he gives a little nod of his head, a motion indicating, 'go ahead, get to it'.

Still looking into his eyes you put one hand on the floor and shift your body, preparing to turn, and his smile grows wider. Tearing your gaze away from him you get on all fours facing away from him. This puts you over the towel and facing the mirror, but you feel too ashamed to watch; you drop your shoulders and bury your head in your arms.

The new position pushes your naked ass up into the air and you spread your knees wider apart to balance. This in turn automatically parts your bottom cheeks, making your stance seem even more lewd and embarrassing because your split buttocks reveal your previously-hidden anus. You're now brazenly displaying your rear entrance to his stare.

Cold lube is suddenly squirted into your bottom cleft, and your whole body quivers. A finger firmly prods at your anal opening, massages the lube around in a circular motion, then presses harder until it pops through your rubbery sphincter and wriggles its way inside the virgin hole.

He starts to work his finger in and out, finger-fucking your asshole, widening it and getting it slippery with the lube. It feels different and rougher than when you do it yourself, and you find yourself biting at your lip. The finger is withdrawn only to be re-lubed and brought back, this time accompanied by a second finger, both of which are worked into your tight behind.

When he withdraws those two fingers you hear a sound which can only be him removing his trousers, and you panic.

"Wait, I don't, I never ..." you stammer, lifting up your head.

With a dull thump, the dildo lands on the carpet in front of you. Without a word he's demonstrated that he knows better. That despite your protest, he has incontrovertible evidence of just what you planned to do. You drop your head back on your arms, blushing furiously in shame.

His warm, hard hands grasp your bottom cheeks, parting them wider than ever. In the next moment you feel the head of his cock press against your greased anus, nuzzle to find the best angle, and start to push.

Fear makes your heart beat fast, but its not a fear of pain or physical harm. He's not much thicker than your dildo, you already know that your ass can take something that large without injury. You are afraid because you've never done this with a real cock before. You are frightened of what it will mean about you that you're allowing this to happen.

You grit your teeth as the pressure builds, the force driving the blunt tip of his phallus against your asshole growing stronger. You're nervous, the muscles which seal your aperture against invasion clenching tight. You know your reluctant orifice's struggle to repel the would-be invader is useless, that the combination of his hands on your hips dragging you back and the determined press of his hard cock forward will eventually force your rear passage to give way and allow his head inside. You also know that once that happens, the rest of the shaft will inevitably follow until every bit of his penis is inside you.

Your sphincter's resistence begins to fade under the constant assault, his tip starts slowly wedging its way up your ass. Once he can tell he's making progress he switches from constant pressure to intermittent thrusts. A few hard shoves and his crown is well-buried in your entrance. You let out a whimper that mixes pain and despair. He pulls back and shoves forward again, and you yelp.

"Stop complaining, slut," he growls. "It's a lot too late to protest at this point."

"I'm not a slut, I didn't say I wanted this," you whine.

He laughs. "Get real. You didn't have to say anything to let me know what you are and what you want. It wasn't me who dressed you up like a whore. And it wasn't me who had a fake cock ready for you to play with. No, that was all your doing."

You feel hot tears start, only partly from the pain of his entry. He withdraws and gives up some of his progress only to thrust again, further widening the access to your reluctant rear.

"What could those things possibly mean, except that you're not happy being a man?" His words continue inexorably, just like his prick presses inexorably inside you. "That in fact you're not really a man; no, you know in your heart that you need a real man, one to use you. Not only that, but you did all this behind an unlocked door when you knew that I might be coming over today! You pretended to be shocked when I came in, but what did you do? You didn't run away or hide or order me out, you just stood there and blushed like a girl. And when I told you to take the panties off, you didn't even argue. You did it just because I asked. Would anyone but a slut have done that? I don't think so ... slut."

Your tired anal muscles finally relax, allowing his cock to slide easily in and out of your well-lubed asshole. You know from your experience with dildos that this is an automatic response, but right now it seems whorish and demeaning. You feel as if your once-virgin ass is positively welcoming its use as a cock-sleeve, and that you're somehow responsible for this happening; that if you weren't so weak-willed or so perverted it wouldn't happen. That it couldn't happen, unless of course you're the kind of slut he's insisting you are.

Meanwhile his thrusts are building to a steady rhythm while he's talking at you, mansplaining, making sure you can't deny what he's doing to you. No, what the two of you are doing TOGETHER, and what this must mean about you.

"And once the panties came off you had to know that there was no turning back. You knew what would happen, and you submitted to it. So don't pretend you didn't want this. You may not have been able to admit it to yourself, but this is exactly what you wanted. I'm just helping you make your dream come true."

You're mortified because he's right. He's exposed not only your bare ass but your deepest, most sordid fantasies, the ones you could barely acknowledge.

"What a sweet sight you were, all dressed up, looking at yourself in the mirror," he tells you as he pumps his hard cock up your compliant rear opening. "It was so cute, the way you were posing. And so obvious that what you wanted was to turn men on, to make them horny. Well, it certainly worked on me!"

His hard palm whacks your bottom and you emit a high-pitched yelp.

"C'mon, slut, move your ass. Don't just take it like you're a blow-up doll, make it good for me," he orders, followed by another slap.

Humiliated, you wriggle your tail.

He laughs. "Oh yeah, you got it. Baby, I can tell you're going to be a great screw from now on. I bet you're happy now. You wanted to be a piece of ass for a real man, and now you're a piece of ass for me. So, are you enjoying your submission to this? Enjoying the way I'm making you my bitch?"

You groan, and he laughs again.

"That's part of the excitement for you, isn't it, slut? Being a man's bitch, surrendering your body to his desires. Giving in to his lust and allowing him to bed you like you're some sleazy tart of a girl, feeling his stiff prick shoved up your submissive little asshole over and over again. Being made into a cock-slave, a whore for real men."

You feel heat rush through you at his words; you start breathing harder and thrust back at him, riding the impaling phallus.

"Oh, fuck yes," he growls. "From the way your ass just clamped down on my shaft it's clear you do like that idea. You like being a whore for a man."

His hand slaps your behind again, hard. "Say it, slut. Tell me you love being my whore."

An even stronger spank follows. Then a slap to the other cheek, making your bottom tingle.

"I love it, I love being a whore for you," you whimper.

He sighs in pleasure. "You've got a cute butt on you, too, bitch. I can't begin to describe how sexy it looks now, framed by garters and with my cock planted up it. And it's nice and tight, feels real good wrapped around my prick."

He gives a hard shove and stops there. You can feel his balls bumping up against yours.

"There. My cock's buried all the way inside you now. Feels different than your dildo, doesn't it? Especially since there's a real man attached to it," he teases. "And you haven't fought back or struggled, not one little bit, have you? So don't try to claim this is rape. It's what you've been waiting for, a real man's cock to stretch your sissy ass. I think you were born to take cock like this. A true sissy slut."

"No, I'm not a sissy," you mutter brokenly.

He starts pumping your ass again, with long, slow strokes now. "Come on, sweet cheeks, you might as well admit what's obvious. We both know you're enjoying being fucked as much as I'm enjoying fucking you. It's clear you're a sissy, just like its clear you're not a real man. Just stop fighting your natural impulses. Give in to it, then we can both relax and have fun."

"No," you groan hopelessly.

He continues fucking you at a slow, steady pace. The pain you had when he entered you is long gone, the hard cock gliding in and out of your ass is starting to make you feel excited. You can feel your own penis swelling again.

"Come on, baby, confess," he urges as he screws you. "Admit that this is what you wanted, what you needed. We both know it's true. You dressed up like a girl and dreamed about finding a man, or rather, about a man finding you. Well, now it's happened, and you'll never have to worry about whether you're a real man ever again because we both know that you aren't. What you're letting me do right now proves it. So, why not just say it? Admit that what we're doing is making love, the way you've always wanted to make love."

You shake your head.

"Okay, then just tell me where my cock is right now," he insists. "It's a simple statement of fact. Say it, or I'll spank you again."